


Boys With Feelings (and a side of cross-dressing)

by FaeryQueen07



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Rimming, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-14
Updated: 2011-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeryQueen07/pseuds/FaeryQueen07





	Boys With Feelings (and a side of cross-dressing)

He discovers the dress, still stashed away in a pack long forgotten, completely by chance.

He eyes it warily where it lays draped across the end of bed, every so often pausing to glance at his door. Percy had mentioned wanting Leon to come by that evening, was probably waiting, but Leon is loathe to leave as he is. There is enough gossip in the castle without adding fuel to the fire with his late-night visits to Percy’s rooms. But if he goes in disguise… He eyes the dress one last time before making his decision.

Leon strips off his clothes quickly and tugs the dress on. He cannot do up the back without help so he leaves it and digs out his longest cloak. The hood is larger than any of his other and will keep his face – and thus his beard – hidden from view. There is nothing to be done with his shoes, but he doubts anyone will notice them. He only hopes no one stops him or attempts a conversation. Leon will fool no one if they hear his voice.

There are no guards outside his door when he slips through moments later, and the hallway is clear of even servants. Leon sends up a small prayer of thanks and tugs the hood further down over his face. Percy’s chambers are on the opposite side of the castle from Leon’s, a fair distance that Leon does not normally mind. Then again, he is not _normally_ dressed in women’s garb.

He makes it as far as the next corridor before he crosses paths with someone, and though he does not look up to check, he is fairly certain it is Prince Arthur. The _Milady_ is a giveaway, and Leon, to his utter horror, _titters_. Leon hastens his steps, fleeing before Arthur can do something tragically noble like offer to escort him to his destination. When he is far enough away that he can risk pausing, he ducks into a darkened alcove and pushes his hood back. He feels flushed and his heart is racing. He briefly wonders if this is worth it, but then he thinks of Percy’s arms, the crushing weight of him as he’s fucking into Leon with abandon, and he knows. He knows it is worth all the risk and probably more.

When he has calmed down enough to continue on, he pulls his hood back into place and slips back out into the corridor. He manages no more than twenty paces before he literally runs into someone else. Leon barely so much as wobbles – and thank fuck he’s wearing his boots or he’d’ve been flat-arsed otherwise – while the second person has to grab onto the wall to catch themselves. He chances a glance up and nearly groans aloud when he sees that it is Merlin. Polite, kind _Merlin_ who will no doubt—

“Oh, shi—um. Sorry. Didn’t see you there. Sorry! I, um.”

Leon can imagine the expression on Merlin’s face as he flounders for words and decides to spare them both. “No harm, no foul. I’ll just be going, now,” he replies, voice nearly cracking as he forces it several octaves higher than normal. He’s already around the corner when he hears Merlin’s half-shouted, ‘Well, all right then. Take care.’ Leon tells himself there is no way that Merlin knows.

He makes it almost the entire rest of the way before he comes across anyone else and then it is Gwaine, judging from the singing. They pass without so much as exchanging a single word, though the retreating footsteps pause for a moment. He wonders if Gwaine is only just headed to the tavern. The scent of wine and mead does not yet clog the air around him and he is walking in a straight line. It would certainly be a first, though Leon does not like to judge. Or at least, he does not like to admit to doing so.

Percy’s door is the last, and Leon knocks briskly, heart hammering away in his chest. It seems silly to receive such an adrenaline rush from something as silly as disguising oneself in a dress, but he has one all the same. He rests his forehead against the cool wood and takes a deep breath, then nearly falls forward as the door is pulled open.

“Oh. Um, I’m sorry, my lady. I think you…Leon?”

Clapping a hand to Percy’s mouth, Leon shoves him back into the room and slams the door shut behind them, throwing the bolt. Then he began tugging off the cloak. “Not a word. I needed a disguise.”

“So you could come here?” Percy does not sound insulted, merely confused.

“Yes. I hate gossip, and while I do not care if people know we are more than just friends, I will not have people gossiping about my nightly…routine.” Percy smiles, just a hint of teeth showing, and Leon is hit with a rush of affection. “Now, help me out of this thing.”

It is as though Leon has said the magic word, because suddenly Percy is _looking_ at him, gaze dark as it drags over Leon’s body. He swallows hard, takes a hasty step backward and is greeted by the cool stone of the wall at his back. Leon shivers but does not flinch when Percy reaches out, gathers the slippery material at Leon’s hip and bunches it in his fist. He has a moment to think, ‘ _that’s going to cause wrinkles_ ‘ before all thought is chased away by Percy’s mouth on his.

The hand at Leon’s hip flexes, drawing yet more of the flimsy material into the tight grip. Leon hears an ominous tearing and has the inane thought that he’ll need to see a seamstress. Then he recalls that the only seamstress he is on speaking terms with is Gwen and he can only image what she would think. So he shoves the thought aside and goes back to sliding his tongue around Percy’s.

Percy’s hand shifts, slides down Leon’s thigh until he is touching skin, then moves back up. The dress is pushed up as well, but Leon is still more than a little shocked when he feels stone wall against his bare arse. He lets out a surprised sound that Percy swallows. When a hand, hot and calloused and perfect, wraps itself around Leon’s cock, they both groan.

“Leon.” Percy has never been particularly verbose, does not tend to carry a lot of inflection in his tone. Leon can read it in his face, though, can see everything Percy seems incapable of expressing verbally. Right now Percy’s expression is all want, unfettered and painfully obvious, and it tugs at something deep within Leon’s chest.

He doesn’t say a word as he pulls Percy in, and that’s fine. Percy allows him to control the situation for a moment longer, lets Leon breathe him in, meld their mouths together until they’re dizzy from lack of air. Then he is taking over again, his hands slip-sliding under the dress, over Leon’s skin, until he’s palming the curve of Leon’s arse. Percy’s fingers dig bruises into Leon’s skin, mark him straight down to the bone and Leon _aches_ with it.

It happens in the space between one thought and the next, before Leon has managed a full exhale. One second he is pressed against the wall and the next he’s on the bed, dress bunched up around his waist. He feels ridiculous like this; spread-eagle and bare-arsed because for some reason, Leon had thought it a good idea to not wear anything beneath the dress. He regrets it right up until he sees how Percy is staring at him, mouth gaping open, chest heaving with every breath and the front of his breeches tented.

It had taken some doing, getting Percy to let down his guard. He’s big, thick around the upper arms in a way that has Leon nearly _gagging_ for it on a regular basis, much to his embarrassment. They are of the same height, nearly the same build, but Percy is broad with muscle in a way that Leon is not. The general assumption had been that Percy was built that way all over. He had told Leon one night – as they made their rounds through the castle – that more often than not, his would-be partners found him disappointing. He is too wide to make penetration pleasurable and too short to be worth the effort for those who think they can take him. Leon does not agree with them. What Percy lacks in length, he more than makes up for in girth, far wider than what Leon can encompass with one hand and he loves it.

Leon wants to see it now, wants to feel the weight of it in his hand. He wants to feel it pushing into him, opening him so wide that he feels split in two and fuck it all. He struggles to sit up and reels Percy in by the ties of his breeches. They tangle around Leon’s fingers and he curses, fumbles for the knife Percy keeps strapped at his hip and cuts through them all viciously. Leon does not waste a second being triumphantly smug at the low, wrecked moan that escapes from Percy, but sucks him in, stretches his mouth wide until his jaw aches. He cannot even grin when Percy’s hands come up to fist in his hair, so full is he.

“Oh God. Leon.” Percy’s voice cracks on Leon’s name and his grip tightens for beat before relaxing once more. Emboldened as he always is by Leon’s directness, Percy lets his hips snap forward once, twice, then pulls away all together. “I don’t think—I don’t like you in this dress,” he says, tone as flat as always, but what Leon hears is, ‘ _I have no control when you look like this_ ,’ and that…that pleases him immensely.

Percy sheds the rest of his clothing gracelessly, but does not allow Leon to do the same, despite his declaration. Instead, he presses Leon back against the bed, brackets Leon’s body with his arms. It’s easy for Leon to let his legs fall open, wanton as the women who populate the rooms above the tavern. He shivers at the sensation of the silk under dress sliding over his dick, and he arches up into Percy’s body, desperate for real friction. Leon manages only one hard rolling thrust before Percy is pushing him back down, pinning him flat in a way that no one else has ever been able to do. His pupils are blown wide, nearly blotting out the blue of his irises. Leon struggles just to feel the way Percy tightens his grip, to see the veins that stand out as he flexes his biceps.

There is a long moment of silence where they are simply staring at one another while Percy fights for control once more. When he finds it, when his breathing is regulated and he no longer looks as though a single touch to his cock will send him flying apart, he manhandles Leon onto his stomach. The hands that yank Leon’s hips back and up are far from gentle. They fit themselves to the grooves of his body, unshakeable in their strength. When Leon tries to push himself up onto his elbows, one hand shifts, slides up over the fabric of the dress to where it is open across his back. Percy shoves him back down and pins him there, holds him in place in a way that has Leon gasping for breath.

“I need to—Leon. Leon, I need to…”

It is clear Percy doesn’t know how to say it; Leon is still teaching him how to express what he wants with words, easing him past a shyness born from the teasing words of his childhood, but Percy is learning. His tone is still flat sometimes, his sincerity locked down where others cannot pick at it, but Leon likes that about him. It is a part of Percy that Leon does not try too hard to change. This time he spares Percy, choking out—

“Yes. Yes, do it. Fuck. Just. _Ooh_.”

Percy lines up and sinks in, moving in one long, relentless thrust. He is barely slick enough and this would be impossible if not for the fact that Leon spent most of the evening preparing himself. There is still oil inside him from just after his bath, but he can still feel the delicious burn of being forced open wider than his fingers can ever manage. He groans into it, his whole body shaking as he just takes it. Only when he bottoms out does Percy release him, molding himself to Leon’s back as he slides his arms down. One hand fists in Leon’s hair, uses it to draw his head back and to the side so that Percy can reach his mouth. The other is moving over Leon’s body, the silk dress slipping through his fingers. He clenches his fist in it and Leon can hear another seam give way – he is violently jealous of it.

They stay frozen like that, all of Percy's weight crushing him into the bed. He feels so full he is aching with it, mouth full of unraveled words, broken sounds that are ripped from his throat when Percy finally pulls back. The first thrust punches all the air out his lungs, and Leon is _sobbing_ from it, fingers twisting in the sheets. Percy does it again, slow and steady, like he has all the time in the world for this. So Leon spreads his legs, loosens his grip and just goes _easy_.

His only warning that everything is about to change is the way Percy's arms tense. Then he's shifting back, hands grabbing fistfuls of silk and skin as Percy jerks Leon up onto his lap. Leon has only enough time to push his hair aside, damp with sweat and falling into his eyes as it is. When Percy pushes, Leon goes, leans forward and grabs the headboard. And it feels fucking _amazing_ when Percy slams in, every thrust shoving Leon closer to the wall.

When Percy finds a rhythm he can easily hold, he crowds in close and braces one hand against the wall. Leon knows he is doing it on purpose, that Percy is teasing him. Leon see can his arm, the hard line of it that Leon just wants to sink his teeth into. It's so close and he wants to, shameful as he feels it is, so when Percy moves it closer, when he brushes the curve of his bicep against Leon's lips, Leon opens his mouth and _bites down_.

Percy lets out a strangled, breathless sound and goes taut, then suddenly he is moving again, fucking up hard so that Leon has to press his cheek to the wall. And it hurts, it hurts so fucking good that he never wants to stop, never wants this moment to end, but it is. Percy’s thighs shake beneath Leon as he comes, filling Leon until it is leaking out past Percy’s cock. That’s all it takes, all Leon needs to feel before he is coming as well, dick jerking and emptying unaided. Percy’s hand on him is almost an afterthought, one Leon does not require, but it pulls a few last twitches from his already softening cock.

They pull apart when they have caught their breath, Leon easing up and off Percy. He hisses less because of the sting of withdrawal and more because he misses feeling so full. Percy is moving before Leon can so much as open his mouth, and a washcloth, damp and somewhat cool, slips between Leon’s thighs, washes away the remnants of Percy’s seed. The first questioning press of Percy’s fingers to Leon’s red, puffy hole has him flinching away and Percy makes a low sound of discontent. It is worth the huff of annoyance that escapes Percy when Leon struggles just to feel those hands on him again, forcing him to follow their direction.

Leon allows himself to be laid out face down, hips raised enough that Percy can look at him clearly. He cannot imagine the sight is terribly pretty, but Percy is odd. What one man dismisses as unexceptional, he finds enjoyment in. This – checking Leon over, assuring himself that nothing is too badly damaged – is one of those things. Leon does not mind it, not with Percy. The first time Leon had fought it, had tried to brush aside the concern, and he had felt the full force of Percy’s strength. He had become alarmingly hard and painfully so; it had been since late boyhood that Leon recovered from sex so quickly. Percy had been unfazed, simply humming as he worked Leon open with his fingers for a second time that night, bringing him to orgasm slowly, carefully. They will not be doing that this time. They are both too exhausted.

Percy brings the cloth up, cleans away the last traces of come and carefully dabs at the tender skin. He takes it back to the table rather than drop it on the floor, and when he returns to the bed, it is to tug the covers out from beneath Leon. As Percy slides into the bed, Leon groans and rolls over, freezing as he realizes he is still wearing the dress. Then he recalls that he brought not other clothes with him and he collapses back into the pillows, hands covering his face. Percy, in a rare moment of insight, chuckles.

“In the morning you can wear a change of my clothes back to your room.” He rolls to his side, fingers the silky material and adds, “I’m sorry I ruined your dress.”

Leon chokes out a laugh. “It really isn’t mine. Guinevere lent it to me when she helped me escape the castle. Hopefully she has forgotten it. I’ll have a hard time explaining the state of it otherwise.”

When he slides his hands away it is to see Percy watching him, face unguarded in a way it never is around anyone else. Leon smiles, drags him down into another kiss.

“Go to sleep. We will deal with tomorrow when it comes.”

He nips Percy lip before stripping off the dress and rolling to his side, back to Percy’s chest. There is no hesitation, no worry that his touch will be unwelcome when Percy slides one thickly-muscled arm around Leon’s waist and pulls him back. All too quickly, they fall into sleep.

***.*.*.***

_Elsewhere in the castle_...

 

Arthur is already in his room when Merlin arrives, and he waits for Merlin to shut the door before clearing his throat to speak. He drums his fingers on the table, for the first time lost for words. He is saved by Merlin who slides into the chair opposite his, brow furrowed and lips pursed.

“Um,” Merlin begins. “So I know you do pretty intense training with the knights.” He pauses to lick his lips, looking downright uncomfortable. He soldiers on, though, before Arthur can interrupt. “I just—I mean. What is it exactly that you train your knights to do?”

“What do I—explain yourself, Merlin.”

“I just—in the hall—all—” Merlin waves a hand through the air and Arthur stares at him blankly for several seconds before realization dawns.

“You saw Leon,” he says flatly.

“Is that part of training?”

“Are you suggesting I have my knights – knights of _Camelot_ – dress up in _women’s clothing_ as part of their training? Are you completely out of your mind, you idiot?! As if you would even one to talk. Didn’t I catch you with a dress very similar to the one Leon had?”

The door slams open before Merlin can even formulate a reply and suddenly Gwaine is there, kicking the door shut and sliding the bolt home. He sounds out of breath and his face is flushed, and for a moment, Arthur chalks it up to the walk from where most of the knights are quarterd to his chambers. Then his gaze slides lower and he sees that Gwaine is hard, a damp spot already forming on the front of his breeches.

“Oh good God. Please tell me you ate something? That you inhaled the scent of some lustful flower. Please!”

“You saw Leon, didn’t you!” Merlin’s eyes are wide as he points at Gwaine accusingly. “I knew it! How am I always the last to know about these things?”

“Right, look,” Gwaine cuts in, assessing the situation far more quickly than a normal person. “I suggest we discuss Leon and his super-secret covert ‘sneak-into-Percival’s-rooms-unnoticed-while-wearing-a-dress’ operation later and focus on my cock and someone’s mouth. Or arse. I’m not picky.”

“Of course you’re not,” Arthur scoffs. “ _You_ are a complete and utter _slag_!”

Merlin glances between them and makes up his mind dizzyingly fast. While Arthur continues to rant about Gwaine’s lack of virtue and morals, Merlin shoves them both towards the bed, stripping himself as they go. By the time Merlin is sinking down on Gwaine’s cock, Arthur at his back, working to fingers in beside Gwaine’s hot length, Leon and his dress are long forgotten.


End file.
